Part 6

“We took this last to mean that he would remember us in his will if we served him well. But this we had always done, so well, indeed, that we couldn’t improve ourselves. Soon after this there was a letter to Mr Milsom’s solicitors to be forwarded. Then a very big one was sent, to which Mr Crowday, the lawyer, brought back an answer, and, being curious, he went and laid it on his master’s table himself. But all was as quiet as it generally was, and he went away no wiser for his pains. Before he went he told the housekeeper that the master had been making a new will. But he wouldn’t say what it was.

“Soon after this a queer rumour arose in the neighbourhood. It was said that the butler had been murdered, and that his ghost haunted the park belonging to Hallow Hall. I don’t know that we exactly believed this rumour, but we none of us cared to be out too late alone at night.

“After a while we began to think the master must be failing, for he was often a whole day without taking any of the food that was so carefully prepared for him. This made us anxious, and we used to listen more intently than ever for any sign of life within the rooms we were not allowed to enter. But this sort of thing went on for five years, and by that time the folks in the neighbourhood looked upon both the house and the grounds as uncanny and haunted.

“One day Jenny and I were both indoors helping the housekeeper, as she was having a thorough cleaning down. As was often the case, I took my turn at carrying some of Mr Milsom’s food into his dining-room. But I had no sooner set foot in it than I heard a terrible groaning in one of the inner rooms. For a moment I looked as scared as did Jenny, who was with me. Then I rushed at the door, and never rested till I had broken it down.

“At last I was inside the place I had often been so curious about. But I shall never forget how astonished I was at what I saw.

“On a rich Turkey carpet which covered the floor lay a man writhing in pain. I rushed to him, and raised on to the couch – not my master, as I had expected, but Wright, the ex-butler! He was in horrible agony, but he actually twisted his features into a grin when he saw my amazement.

“‘Yes, it’s me,’ he gasped; ‘I’ve been living here all these years in clover, and none of you fools any wiser for it, though I doubt I’m done for now.’

“‘But the master?’ I asked.

“‘Been dead more than five years. It can’t hurt me now to confess. I killed him and buried him under the blighted oak in the park.’

“I let go of Wright when I heard this. By that time all the rest of the household came flying in. Wright had accidentally swallowed some poison, and died that night. Before he died he told us how he managed to get at the old master and kill him. By means of a pass key he had had made for him, he was able to get into the inner room, and the rest was easy. He removed the silver, knowing that we would think he had stolen it. He had for months imitated the master’s writing, and effectually deceived everybody. The reputed ghost which had been seen in the park was himself. He got in and out through an old cellar, and when we thought he was ailing, because his food was not eaten, he was enjoying himself elsewhere. He had procured large sums of money through Mr Milsom’s solicitors, who certainly wondered, but did not hesitate to supply it. He meant to have made one more haul, ere leaving Hallow Hall for ever, when he made the fatal mistake which ended his life.

“Sure enough, we found the master’s body under the oak, and removed it, in a suitable coffin, to the family vault.

“Of course the will which Wright had written was useless. For this we were rather sorry, as it provided handsomely for us all. Still, we have no need to grumble, for the gentleman who succeeded to the estate as heir-at-law – there being no will – treated us all very well. In fact, we’re his servants to this day, and we’ve no notion of seeking fresh places. Thank you, ma’am; I knew you would like my tale.”

VII. The Mysterious Thief

“Now, Miss Bell,” said my uncle to me one day, “I have a nice little job for you. A certain Mr Flowers, of Kite-street, City, has had no fewer than five different thefts from his house within three months. The thief seems to go very cunningly about his work, for so far he has proved absolutely undetectable, although the police have had the matter in hand from the first.”

“And of what nature are the things that have been stolen?” I asked.

“Well, their variety would be amusing, were it not so perplexing,” said Mr Bell. “The first thing that was missed was a small scrip-box, containing a recently executed will, and some important trust deeds. Mr Flowers, I should mention, is a solicitor, who resides in rooms over the premises on which he carries on his business. Of course, he was in a great state about losing such responsible property. But not the slightest clue to the perpetrators of the theft could be discovered.

“‘If it had been my own property that had been stolen I would not have minded so much,’ said Mr Flowers. ‘But trust deeds! it is too dreadful.’

“Various theories were promulgated as to the nature and motives of the thief, the most feasible one being that someone, hearing that a relative had made a will, had conceived that it was inimical to his interests, and had resolved to steal it from the solicitor with whom he believed it to have been deposited. As, however, the abstracted will was that of an old lady who had no relations or friends who could have expected her money, even this theory suffered from objections.

“In a few weeks it was exploded altogether, for a second robbery took place at the house of Mr Flowers. This time it was the greater part of the silver plate that was missing. Experts were all agreed that the thief knew the whole of the interior arrangements of the establishment. Clerks and servants were all subjected to rigid cross-questioning and watching, but came out of the ordeal with flying colours. Mr Flowers, in fact, considered them all above suspicion. But it was natural that, for a time, the detectives should hardly be of his opinion.

“Very soon robbery number three was discovered. Mrs Flowers’s watch and chain had disappeared. Two days later three bank notes of £10 each were missing. These Mr Flowers was sure he had first locked in a cashbox, then in the office safe. After watching the departure of his two clerks, and the office boy, he carefully looked to the safety of the windows, to which some patent burglar alarms had lately been attached, then he locked and double-locked the office door, taking all the keys upstairs with him, and putting them under his pillow.

“Yet, strange to say, on entering the office next morning, before the arrival of his clerks, he found the notes missing. All the doors and locks were exactly as he had left them, yet, on opening the cashbox, it was found to be empty. By this time both he and those in his employ were thoroughly scared, and one of the clerks told me this morning that he and his colleagues had only refrained from giving Mr Flowers notice to leave because they feared their reluctance to stay might be construed into a virtual admission of their own participation in the mysterious thefts.

“This morning matters reached a climax when Mr Flowers, on rising, discovered his own watch to have disappeared as completely as that of his wife had done. I was sent for to see if I could throw any light on this strange affair. I found Mr Flowers looking the picture of rage and mystification, and his clerks were sulkily proceeding with their work, their expressions almost indicating a dawning disbelief in the extent of their employer’s losses. The office boy struck me as looking rather jubilant. He evidently revels in the sensational.

“In the more private part of the establishment things looked no better. The lady of the house was in hysterics, and the housemaid was packing up her clothes, and vowing that if they locked her up for it she wouldn’t stay any longer in a place that was haunted. Asked if she had seen anything that could warrant her assertion that the house was haunted, she replied that nothing but a ghost could take the money and jewellery out of locked-up places without having been near the keys, the latter being invariably found where they had been put before the master went to bed.

“I managed to persuade the housemaid into a more pliant frame of mind by promising to bring her an associate to help in the work, and keep the cook and herself company until all the mystery had been made clear. The cook was easier to deal with, for she had arrived at a pitch of unbelief that was positively amusing.

“‘I’m about sick of all the fuss and bother there has been lately,’ she said. ‘And I won’t be worried any more over it. It’s my opinion that there ain’t never been a single thing stole, and that the master’s trying to get up a sensation all for nothing.’

“‘But where are the things, if they haven’t been stolen?’ I asked.

“‘Well, betwixt you and me, I think there ain’t two ways about it. I’ve lived in families before where they was pretty hard up for ready money sometimes, and were only too ready to do it.’

“‘Do what?’

“‘Why, pawn ‘em, to be sure.’

“‘What, pawn banknotes?’

“‘No, the banknotes haven’t been pawned. There’s no need of that. I expect they’ve been paid away for something on the quiet. The master wouldn’t be the first man that had secrets from his wife.’

“‘And how about the papers? You don’t imagine anybody would take them in pawn, do you?’

“‘Humph. As if that wasn’t a part of the bamboozlement. You don’t throw dust in my eyes too long.’

“With this remark the cook clenched the conversation, and I must confess that my thoughts had wandered for some time somewhat in the same direction. The incredulous looks of at least one of the clerks also bore out the cook’s reasoning. Still, if the object was merely to bamboozle his wife, why should the owner of the property said to be stolen make such a fuss, and go to such an expense to bring about an unravelment that could but be inimical to his own interests, if he were playing a double game? The whole case is as complex and awkward as any I have come across, and I want your help in it.”

I had listened very attentively to my uncle’s story, and had already framed my own idea of the duties expected of me.

“You wish me to keep a careful watch upon all the people in the Flowers establishment, while professing to discharge domestic duties?” I suggested.

“Precisely,” was the answer. “Both Mr and Mrs Flowers approve of the plan, and you are expected to-day.”

A few more preliminaries being settled, I prepared myself at once for my new duties, and found, on arriving at 15, Kite-street, that I was supposed to be a temporary housekeeper, vice Mrs Flowers herself, incapacitated through trouble and anxiety, consequent upon the mysterious series of robberies that had taken place in the house.

The poor woman’s incapacity for supervising the daily routine of her household was not feigned. She was really so ill and upset that I advised her to put herself under the care of the family doctor, who would give her something to quieten her nerves. Meanwhile, if she would lie down and rest, I told her, I would see that things were so conducted in the kitchen and elsewhere that Mr Flowers should miss none of his accustomed comforts.

It was with a sigh of satisfaction that she yielded herself to my arrangement, and I also found the servants easy to cope with. The principal topic of conversation both in parlours and kitchens was the facility with which it seemed possible for somebody or other to take what they pleased out of the house. Before bed time I had gleaned every possible item of information relating to the mystery, and had formed my theory as to the true state of things.

After office hours Mr Flowers fastened his lower premises up with all possible care, and as soon as I could do so without being observed by the servants, I carefully examined all the fastenings, and satisfied myself that the individual who entered from without would be very clever indeed. He would, in fact, have to be of the shadowy nature attributed to the thieves by the housemaid.

At twelve o’clock everyone in the house, except myself, had gone to bed. But so far from retiring to rest myself, I had resolved to keep careful watch all night. I had wrapped a thick woollen shawl round my shoulders, and stationed myself so that I commanded a full view of the doors leading from the various bedrooms. Lest I should be observed myself, I took advantage of a portiere which shrouded a recess used as a wardrobe, and anxiously kept the stairhead in sight.

I am not of a nervous disposition. But I confess I felt a “wee bit eerie” as the big hall clock chimed the hours and half hours, while all else in the house was as still as death. It was therefore with an intense feeling of thankfulness that I at last saw Mr Flowers emerge slowly but cautiously from his bedroom, carrying in one hand a bunch of keys, and in the other a lighted candle. He went straight downstairs, and, holding my very breath through fear of betraying my presence, I followed him from the bedroom floor, to the drawing-room floor, thence further downstairs to the basement. Finally, walking with a strange rigidity which would have struck me as awesome had I not conjectured its cause, he preceded me into the cellars which underlay the whole building.

A minute or two later he was opening an old disused cupboard, into which I saw him place two rings that he had brought downstairs with him. It was a clear case of somnambulism. But I dare not wake him there and then. Only pausing for an instant to consider what was best to be done next, I noiselessly hurried upstairs, entered Mrs Flowers’s bedroom, and roused her from a heavy slumber. I had scarcely succeeded in making her understand me when we heard her husband coming upstairs again. Almost beside herself with alarm, she jumped out of bed, and, in spite of my caution, gave a loud scream when she saw the glassy and expressionless look in her husband’s eyes.

A moment later there was a somewhat wild scene between the two, for Mr Flowers was rudely awakened, and could not understand my presence in his bedroom at first. When at last he was made to comprehend the state of affairs he expressed himself determined to get to the bottom of the mystery at once. I retired until the pair had arrayed themselves more decorously. Then the three of us explored the cellar cupboard together, and just as I had expected, we found all the precious things which Mr Flowers’s anxiety had caused his sleeping senses to put in a place of safety, of which he had no recollection when awake.

The shock of his sudden awakening did him no harm. But it cured his somnambulistic tendencies, and there have been no further supposed robberies from 15, Kite-street.

THE END